


Hurricane

by peblezQ



Series: Hamilton Week - Lams Birthday Bash [5]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda, Historical RPF
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Alexander Hamilton, Canon Era, Childhood Trauma, Established Relationship, Fluff, Français | French, Gay John Laurens, Hurt/Comfort, Lams Birthday Bash, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Storms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:34:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28531533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peblezQ/pseuds/peblezQ
Summary: Hamilton wakes up during a thunderstorm at Valley Forge and is sucked into cruel memories from his childhood.Prompt #5 - Childhood
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens
Series: Hamilton Week - Lams Birthday Bash [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2086494
Comments: 8
Kudos: 40
Collections: Lams Birthday Bash





	Hurricane

**Author's Note:**

> This one is short. I hope you like it!
> 
> (Alexander Hamilton slips in and out of French and English at times. Translations below)

It was the sounds that woke Hamilton from his slumber. The tapping on the window and the wind howling in the night skies are louder than musket fire. The rain pelting against the house leaves him defensively shivering in his cot. He does not dare move as the house creaks and moans against the powerful winds swirling the world into the abyss. Hamilton forces his eyes closed and mutters incoherently under his breath.

He slips between French and English as he mumbles soothing words to remind himself of his whereabouts. “J—J’mappelle Alexander Hamilton. I studied the law at Kings College… Je suis en Amérique… Je suis dans la maison d'un monsieur—” Lightning strikes through his mutterings. The skies grumble deeply moments later and Hamilton trembles furiously.

He breathes erratically now, losing his focus. “Un, deux, trois, quatre—” Lighting strikes again and Hamilton sits upright, allowing the thin blanket to pool at his thighs. He covers his face and rubs at his skin, praying the feeling of his calloused palms will ground him.

_ He is drifting away — he can tell. _ The walls are building up again and a comfortably numb feeling begins to consume his very core. Reds of fire and blood paint behind his closed eyelids as he hyperventilates. His clothes are damp from the water flooding into his room and he cannot breathe. The humid night air causes his firey hair to stick upon his freckled cheeks; blotchy and pink from salty tears streaming down them. The puddle on his floor builds deeper and deeper — his patched breeches are soggy and clinging to his legs like a lifeline.

He is small again; just a boy, trapped in his home on the island. Thin and gangly and shivering violently as the winds rip his house apart.

"Muh-momma…" he croaks out weakly. He cannot find her anywhere. And then he remembers why. He is alone, lost. A bastard. An orphan. A nobody. Worthless.  _ Worthless.  _ **_WORTHLESS._ **

He shivers violently when thunder  _ roars. _ He can hear the cries of the townsfolk as they are all swept away. He cries into his hands mumbling incoherently. "Stop it. Make it stop...Arrêtez! Arrêtez!"

Hamilton shudders vigorously at the feeling of a warm hand on his shoulder and he opens his eyes. He has returned to the present — in Valley Forge. The spring is blooming upon them and the war will be resuming. Tis only the first rainfall of the year.

He is no longer a boy; he is a man.

He looks over his shoulder to follow the warm hand grounding him, trailing his eyes up the arm, seeing the sleeves have been rolled up on his angel. He meets the crystal blue gaze of John Laurens and sighs, trembling with the sounds of the rain  _ tap-tap-tapping _ against the window of the garret.

“Alexander, you are here with me,” Laurens whispers in a deep voice. It soothes him very much so and he leans into Laurens’ touch. “You are no longer  _ there _ ,” Laurens continues in a low whisper, moving his arm around Hamilton’s shoulder to pull him close. 

Hamilton buries his head in the juncture between Laurens’ neck and collarbone, sighing with relief as he feels the numbness subside into oblivion. “I am here,” Hamilton replies in a gruff voice.

“Yes, my dear boy. You are safe,” Laurens soothes, his lips resting against the crown of Hamilton’s sweat-coated hair.

Hamilton closes his eyes and Laurens begins running his fingers up and down his back in gentle shapes. Hamilton focuses on the feeling and no longer is deafened by the storm outside. He be present, inside, with his Dear Laurens. He is warm and cradled within his strong arms and knows that everything will be fine.

They remain this way for what feels like hours. Laurens anchors him and Hamilton falls with him, laying down again in the arms of his lover. Laurens strokes his fingers through his orange curls and Hamilton’s skin protrudes gooseflesh at the warm feeling his Laurens’ fingers entice within his heart. He smiles up at him, resting his hand upon Laurens’ stubbled jaw and rubs his hand upon the scratchy skin to ground himself further.

“Go to sleep, Alexander,” Laurens whispers in his hair before placing a gentle kiss upon his forehead.

“My Jack,” Hamilton mumbles. “Do not leave me.”

“Never,” Laurens replies earnestly. Hamilton drifts away with Laurens, further from the Hurricane and into their peaceful paradise of a young country born with Liberty and freedom.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for a zine that ended up not working out. I decided it kinda works for this prompt since it is about childhood trauma.
> 
> I edited it and posted here since it worked.
> 
>  **French Translations:**  
>  "J'mapelle" = "My name is"  
> "Je suis en Amérique…" = "I am in America."  
> "Je suis dans la maison d'un monsieur..." = "I am inside the home of a mister..."  
> "Arrêtez!" = "Stop!"


End file.
